


Merry Fucking Christmas

by snackysmores



Category: South Park
Genre: It's not snowing this Christmas and honestly I'm bummed out lol, Kyle is a hot-mess with inverted nipples, M/M, Merry fucking Christmas, Smut, Stan is a burnout, actually it did start snowing irl after all it's a Christmas miracle, miniature golf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-18 10:18:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13098009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snackysmores/pseuds/snackysmores
Summary: Kyle Broflovski is a credit card fraud investigator, Stan is a bad drunk and a worse liar with a claim that someone else maxed out his card at the bar. Kyle's not buying it, but maybe they can come to some kind of an understanding...This is the obligatory Style Christmas fic for the holidays that you should read to get into the spirit at the last minute.





	Merry Fucking Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [julads](https://archiveofourown.org/users/julads/gifts).



> Thanks to julads for posting the inspiration for this very particular Kyle, for all the very particular Kyles they've written, and thanks to all the Style writers/artists in general for your contributions to this old-ass ship. It's funny, it's sad, it's beautiful, it's my OTP. 
> 
> Leave a comment and smash that fucking kudos button if you read this. Merry Christmas!

Snow hadn't come yet this year. Beyond the frost and mist of the morning the streets looked the same as always. Even as a Jew, Kyle could appreciate that without snow Christmas lost a great deal of its aesthetic, its appeal. All of the festive decorations hung up without snow...Honestly it looked kinda sad, like they turned the lights on inside of the Space Mountain attraction at Disneyland, and the magic was dead.

Being able to get out of the house more easily, being disillusioned from the splendor of the holiday, he understood well enough why people drank more this time of year. Sometimes when people drink, they do silly things, like spend more money than they have on drinks. Sometimes when they're mostly but not completely sober, they do sillier things, like try to claim that their prodigious bar-tab was the work of some cut-purse, an evil twin perhaps. 

When people did things like that, or tried to commit fraud with their Visas in general, it was Kyle's job to sort things out. He liked it. Catching people in their lies, nailing them for it, throwing the book at them, he kinda got off on it. Just a little. If he were a tad more introspective he might acknowledge the real reason why he enjoyed it, but at this point in his life he's just convinced that he's right and that's all that matters.

Today's case was a special one in that he was willing to make a house call. Normally he cut people down on the phone in between playing games and browsing pornography, but this fraud had the audacity to want to give his phony story a live performance, not satisfied with just giving verbal lies, he wanted to try faking bodily and facial cues as well. It was like all the hours Kyle had spent playing L.A. Noire on the 360 were finally going to pay off in a real life 'Gotcha' moment.

Twenty minutes of driving down foggy, empty roads from his house, or more accurately, the duplex Kyle's father owned that Kyle lived alone in, he turned in to the neighborhood where today's offender lived. There were a number of small, one-story houses made of brick, or something approximating brick. It was necessary to drive in the middle of the street to avoid all of the parked cars, several of which were clearly derelict. There were plenty of Christmas decorations too. Some had adopted those tacky new projectors and lasers, most were working with old lights, and a few had lights older than that, the kind that gave off lead fumes and bubbled with heat, all to give off a cheery little spot of red or blue during the cold nights.

Kyle parked down the street from the marked address, reviewing the particulars on the files he had painstakingly printed to put inside a manila folder. Stan Marsh was his name. He didn't know what he looked like. On the phone he sounded miserably hungover, a deep voice made deeper by the coarse effects of stinging liquors, and he'd been talking in a tone of voice that said 'it's obvious I'm lying but please go along with it anyway because it's the best lie I could come up with'.

Feeling his phone buzz against his upper thigh, Kyle instantly went to his pocket for it, tossing the files aside. Kyle's eyebrows raised in surprise at the notification. He'd gotten a match on Grindr. 

He'd downloaded it in a hotel room two weeks prior, while on an out-of-town, work-related function that was supposed to be social, but had instead left him feeling painfully alone, also a little horny. He'd decided at the time to focus on feeling horny, downloading the infamous app and seeing who responded. He'd spend fifteen minutes taking a picture in one way before deciding it didn't work for whatever reason, that it had to be another way. In his mind he was pretty hot, and he could just thrust out his ass in tight briefs in front of the mirror to sell the goods with a saucy picture. However, in Kyle's own eyes, Kyle was not hot. For personal and professional reasons, he didn't want his face to be in the picture. He didn't want it to focus on his chest too much either, because he was very self-conscious about his big, inverted nipples. His feet and his hands were too gangly, his stomach was puffy from the buffet. None of these could be featured according to his inner editor, but was it really ok to just sell himself as a disembodied piece of ass? Kyle agonized for over an hour before picking the least bad picture of himself, mostly his ass. He stayed up until four am, wasting the night away matching and messaging but getting no further, blearily sharing pictures of his ass to strangers over the phone while masturbating to the adult channel previews on the hotel television. After finally letting himself have a disappointing climax by his own hand, he deleted the app. However, he downloaded it again the next night, being back at home. 

Knowing all of that background information is necessary to understand why the notification titillated Kyle, but also why he chose not to open the app and see, satisfied enough with the notification, chubbing up in his khakis. If he looked it would ruin the potential, the fantasy. He certainly wasn't going to respond if it was someone near him in this part of town.

Back in Visa Fraud Investigator mode, ignoring the chub in his khakis, Kyle got out of his unremarkable red economy car and walked down the street, confident in the smart clack of his loafers until several cats impeded his path around to the door of the house, which was away from the street and on the side of the building. Stepping around them, shooing them, he knocked on the door just under the Christmas wreath and waited for this 'Stan Marsh' to answer.

A good-looking guy opened the door. Fit, unshaven, with long, coarse black hair and blue eyes. Not what Kyle expected. He was wearing a pair of royal blue jeans and a long-sleeved, green tartan-patterned button-up shirt, standing in wool socks on hardwood floor. "Come in," he said to Kyle, opening the door fully and stepping aside. He didn't wait long for Kyle to enter before he started to talk about the difficulties he'd experienced.

Kyle was disappointed at that, it seemed like he was working his way up to admitting he'd done wrong. He let his eyes sweep the room, mostly ignoring what Stan was saying. There was a plastic Christmas tree in the far corner with colorful lights and a variety of decorations on the tree, including a Broncos helmet and the bear mascot for Snacky S'mores. There was even a tidy little pile of presents in assorted patterned wrapping underneath. The center-piece of the room, the fireplace set in the wall, was blocked by a big, flat-screen television. "Do you live with anyone?" Kyle asked, interrupting Stan.

"Yeah, my roommate Kenny, he's at work right now, and my other roommate Cartman is in the basement...But uh, we'll have privacy." Stan said, eyes darting away. 

"Hmm?" Kyle blinked, what had he missed? All of a sudden it seemed like Stan was looking at him funny. 

"I said, uh, I thought that..." Stan trailed off, scratching at the back of his neck, his arm muscles straining the sleeve of his shirt. "You might make this go away if we, you know, hooked up."

“And why would I want to hook up with you?” Kyle scoffed, with an arrogant grin clear on his face. 

“For starters, we matched on Grindr.”

“Oh.”

That must have been the notification he ignored. Which shot of dick or abs in the last week had he liked that belonged to this guy? Kyle impulsively looked at Stan's lower body like a holiday gift, imagining what waited under the wrapping, but instead of hoping for thick, woolen socks, he was hoping for thick, swollen cock.

But still, he had a job to do. “I'm not going to commit credit card fraud for some guy I just matched with on Grindr.”

Stan pleaded with his soft, watery eyes, hunching his shoulders submissively. “Just give me a little time to get the money and I'll drop the claim. You'll have investigated the fraud and found no grounds to reverse the charge, and I'll pay for it.”

Kyle broke eye-contact again, he was feeling flushed, having been busy imagining what Stan's penis must look like. He asked, “what do you do for work?” getting on the fast-track of perfunctory questions one asks a person before getting into bed with them.

“I work at a mini-golf course...and I do some stuff on the side,” Stan said, which sounded like code for something illicit.

“I'm not trading you clemency with the bank for sex, that's just wrong." Kyle folded his arms, shifting his weight back onto one foot, cocking his hips to the side before swaying a bit, unable to bring himself to just leave and report this fraud like he should. "But I would have sex with you because we both want to.”

A few more pleasantries later and they were back in Stan's room. There was little bare floor showing under all the dirty laundry and curios, which Stan slid across the wood floor with his foot. Kyle thought, 'if he planned to hook up with me, he could have at least cleaned his room.' God, was he really doing this? On one hand, this was what he'd been waiting weeks for, a match with a good-looking guy for some discreet gay sex no one had to know about. On the other hand, he was jeopardizing a lot for it. His job, his health, his reputation...He was embroiled in inner conflict, but when Stan started undressing he got rubber knees and dropped into a computer chair that was next to the wall.

Stan took off his shirt and unbuckled his pants, walking out of them and moving toward Kyle, who was thinking it was a good thing he'd been fasting after getting a look at that veiny monster of a cock Stan had. 

Kyle fumbled underneath for the right lever to lower the seat of the computer chair, putting him head level with it. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around Stan's cock. Stan hissed because they were so cold.

“Sorry.” Kyle mumbled up at him briefly, giving experimental strokes up and down the shaft, taking both fists to it and finding his hands quite full, with more out of his grasp. With the tip unattended in his hands, he leaned forward and mouthed over it, winding his tongue around it. 

Kyle jerked and sucked Stan off, with his own cock straining his khakis. Stan let out an errant grunt now and then but was mostly quiet, and he didn't know what to do with his hands while he was being tended to, feeling like he might get in trouble for putting his hands on Kyle at this stage.

Kyle gasped, having to tap out without getting his mouth further than halfway, not wanting to trigger his gag reflex. “Do you have a condom?”

Kyle left the chair and went to spread out over Stan's bed, grimacing at the stains left on the unwashed pillowcase. Nonetheless, he took his clothes off and waited with his ass up in the air for Stan to saddle up with a condom behind him.

“You've got a really nice ass,” Stan commented, squeezing a cheek in hand.

Kyle burned with embarrassment, and when Stan started to finger him with lube he stuffed his face into the nasty pillow to muffle his shameful groaning. “That's enough, just do it,” he whined impatiently.

Stan held one ass-cheek peeled to the side with the other hand steadying his cock, slowly pressing it against Kyle's hole until he was snugly sunk in past the tip. He braced his hands on either side of Kyle's hips, and started shaking the bed with his slow, steady thrusting, working up to a faster pace as Kyle's ass gave in, taking him smoother. 

They got hot and sweaty going at it with the house's heating still on, Stan's sustained, energetic lunging proving a workout that saturated the coarse hair on his chest and stomach before dripping, falling on the back of Kyle's neck or pooling in the dip of his lower back.

The raucous slapping of Stan's hips to his bottom put Kyle into a trance. At the point when Stan's thrusting culminated in one last, hilting lunge, Kyle had lost sense of time. He had no idea how long he'd been under getting pounded, and he also had no idea how long he was lying there after, face down and motionless. Stan laid on top of him awhile, letting his weight sink onto him, his hairy chest leaving sweat all over his back. 

“Get off,” Kyle groaned after a while, and the smooth exit of his partner stimulated enough of his numbed extremities to recall that he'd had a prostate orgasm during sex that left jizz all over Stan's bedsheets. 

Stan rolled off beside him. More time went by, without Kyle paying it any mind. Then he realized it was dark outside. He figured it wasn't that late since it got dark early in the Winter, but when Stan left the bed to shower he checked the bedside clock and gaped (phrasing) when he found out it was already a quarter to five. Hadn't he gotten here just short of noon? Kyle rolled over just to be out of the mess of fluids he'd been basting in, still not ready to get out of bed completely. He put a hand to his forehead and let his vision blur looking up at the white popcorn ceiling.

He'd really gotten a sound fucking from that guy. So good he was really fighting to weigh his good qualities against the fact that he was a drunken slob that tried to commit credit card fraud. Regardless of looks or sexual compatibility, he wouldn't have done this for just anyone, right? What were his true feelings regarding this guy? 

When Kyle was ready to throw the book at Stan, and his eyes looked ready to tear up, Kyle didn't get any of the usual smug self-satisfaction of doling out 'justice'. He felt bad for him. In light of that, after thinking it over, Kyle decided that yeah, unfortunately he had the hots for this guy. But how did he feel in return? Did he take any pleasure in doing this with the threat of his credit card bills looming overhead?

Stan returned from the shower to start getting dressed. “I've got work tonight,” he explained, putting on a silly, festive uniform with the logo for the mini-golf course.

Kyle sat up quickly and he saw stars for it, a little dizzy. “I could drive you.”

Stan looked hesitant to lean for more help, asking “are you sure?”

Kyle could feel the lube trickling out of him, collecting with what lube had dried in tacky patches outside. “Yeah, if I could use your shower...”

“Go ahead, dude.”

The bathroom was similarly messy to Stan's room, and it made Kyle feel a bit squicky, but he endured to get clean, that kind of clean where one is still left feeling dirty, but it was better than nothing. He was a bit distracted with the phantom feeling of fullness in his ass. Looking at himself in the mirror, he wondered what his next move was, after dropping this guy off at his work. Would this all be over? Looking in the mirror, admiring the post-fucking glow in his skin, Kyle decided he didn't want it to be. Besides, he could go for some mini-golf.

There was a window high up the wall in the bathroom that was open a crack to vent from the hot showers, and when a wisp of cold air blew through, Kyle looked up with a shiver to see that it had started snowing outside, a magic white dust slowly blanketing the drab earth below it. Even as a Jew, Kyle could appreciate a white Christmas. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Again, please leave a comment! If I have time in the next 48 hours I'd like to add another chapter to this story before Christmas is over.


End file.
